


Rekindling Friendships

by fansbyproducts (sisaat)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is Lonely, Friendship, Gen, The Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2502107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisaat/pseuds/fansbyproducts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil is tired of being lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rekindling Friendships

**Author's Note:**

> I might write a bunch of dics in which Cecil spend some time with his friends, because he needs that right now. Also, I need that right now.

Cecil stayed late at the station not because of the work to do, but because the thought of going back to his empty home made him a little sick. It was the home Carlos and him had made together, but now Carlos wasn't there waiting for him and wouldn't join him there even if Cecil waited for him. He didn't want to be alone in their home, so he stayed here. Sometime he forgot to return home at all and ended up falling asleep on the couch in the break room, where he would be woken up before his show by an intern.

 

He wished he still had his small apartment. It would be lonely there too, but that was a familiar kind of loneliness. He had spent an unknowable number of years—and he tried not to think too hard about how literally unknowable it was—alone there, with no company but the semi-sentient dust bunnies and the Faceless Old Women he could never quite see. He wondered if she was waiting for him to come home right now. It was a mildly comforting thought.

 

But he didn't have that familiar, lonely apartment to return to, only a house too big for one, and his studio at the station. So he stayed here and reviewed tomorrow's horoscopes and made sure they didn't say anything too nice about Scorpios. He added a few “vile” and “despised” for good measure. It made him feel a little better about life in general.

 

When he reached his own horoscope, he swallowed past a lump in his throat. _“Aquarius: you should smile more.”_ And, scribbled in yellow with what appeared to be a toothpick dipped in mustard, the station's oracle had added: _“So go out and talk to people, Palmer.”_

 

He stared down at those words. He knew he had become a bit of a recluse since Carlos had gotten stranded in the desert world. If he was quite honest with himself, he knew he had been a bit of a recluse _before_ Carlos as well. He hadn't met up with his old bowling league since long before the miniature city under lane five.

 

Cecil let the page fall down and pushed himself to his feet. He could do this. He wasn't going to spend one more moment hiding in here. He threw on his orange poncho, stopped by the bathroom to say goodbye to Khoshekh, and strode out of the station with new-found confidence.

 

That confidence lasted only until he started the car. He still didn't want to go back home, not yet, but he had no idea where he should be going. He started driving, pondering that. Big Rico's? The Moonlite, All-Nite Diner, for a slice of invisible pie? The White Sand Ice Cream Shop? The Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex? He missed bowling, but there was something very sad about bowling alone.

 

It was probably that thought that brought him, not at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, but near the edge of town, to an old house surrounded by a halo of light by The Car Lot. He put the car in park and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, not sure what to do. It was late and he hadn't even called. He squinted to see if any lights were on, but it was hard to tell, since the entire house was glowing.

 

“You should go inside,” a familiar voice next to him said. “Or whatever.”

 

Cecil looked at the previously empty passenger seat, where a tall being with golden wings—that he could at least call an angel in the relative privacy of his own thoughts—slouched, wearing an expansive hand-tailored suit coat and nothing else. They appeared to be checking the stock markets on their cell phone, but they were keeping an eye on Cecil. Only one; the others were trained on the screen.

 

“Hello, Erika,” he greeted them. “I wouldn't want to bother Josie at this late hour.”

 

“She's watching The Walking Dead and yelling at the TV. We'd all appreciate the distraction. Or whatever.”

 

Erika opened the car door and stepped outside, unfolding their inhumanly tall body that really shouldn't have fitted in Cecil's car. The angel stretched, placed their phone in a pocket of their suit and strolled back toward the house. Cecil sighed and followed.

 

“I bet no one working on that show have even been through a _real_ zombie invasion,” was the first thing he heard when he entered Old Woman Josie's house. He left his shoes by the door, hung his poncho on a hook next to Josie's and followed Erika into the living room.

 

“I brought your friend inside,” Erika said before dropping into a floral armchair and throwing one leg over the armrest carelessly. They took out their phone again and stopped paying attention to anyone else. Josie was sitting on a matching sofa in a cream nightgown, shaking her fist at the TV screen, before she lifted her eyes to look his way.

 

“Cecil! What brings you here?”

 

“I...” _was lonely, could not stand to go back to my empty house, need human contact, need someone to look at me and not just hear me, missed you, miss having friends, don't want to be alone with my thoughts anymore._ He couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence.

 

“Well don't just stand there! Sit down. I made corn muffins.”

 

She gestured at a plate on the coffee table, next to a sitting angel. The tall being in a white polka dot dress nibbled on a corn muffin, their many eyes glued to the TV screen and their wings twitching at every scream. Another angel sat in an armchair, knitting what appeared to be a very long sock. Cecil grabbed a corn muffin and joined Josie on the sofa.

 

She must have salt again, because it tasted like he remembered the from the times they came to Josie's house to celebrate after bowling. He let himself find comfort in the familiarity of the recent past. The more distant past was terrifying, and so was the future, but the recent past was a welcome escape from the present.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Will you take some tea? Of course you'll take tea. I'll get you some.”

 

She rose and disappeared in the kitchen, leaving him alone with the three angels. Cecil looked around the living room. It hadn't changed much, otherworldly beings aside. The same ancient-looking furniture and lacy curtains, the same tall bookcase with shelves filled with mementos, including one familiar bowling trophy. Cecil smirked. His eyes dropped to the bottom shelf, the one filled with photo albums.

 

They had photos of that tournament they won, he remembered. He recognized the album Josie kept them in and stood to retrieve it. The knitting angel looked at him with interest, but didn't stop him from taking the thick blue album and bringing it back to the sofa. Cecil opened it and started flipping through it.

 

He flipped past some photos of Josie's house, her lawn, a bake sale, an interesting looking butterfly, and that one time a giant purple monkey went on a rampage in Mission Grove Park, before he found them. There he was, with a big smile on his face, and there was Josie, celebrating a strike, and John Peters, you know, the farmer, raising a plastic cup as a toast.

 

And there was Maria Fernandez, holding a bowling ball above her head and howling. She had been a good friend. He missed her. He remembered reporting her death with a strange detachment, as if she was a stranger. _“Maria Fernandez, of the Night Vale Tourism Board, was swallowed by the glowing chasm that opened in the Vacant Lot Out Back of the Ralphs.”_ When had he grown so distant?

 

“You know, Strex invested to have the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex renovated.” Josie said when she returned and saw what he was looking at. Cecil fought a wince at that name. He didn't need to worry about Strexcorp anymore. The angels bought it. It was safe now. He accepted the teacup from Josie and took a slow sip to calm his nerves. “They even had lane five covered. We shouldn't have to worry about that tiny civilization anymore.”

 

“I know,” Cecil answered, with a thankful nod at Erika, who only gave a non-committal grunt without lifting their eyes from their cell phone.

 

“We could start bowling again. I know John has been looking forward to it.”

 

“That would be... nice.” His gaze still wandered over the photos and he felt a pang of regret for isolating himself for so long. He hadn't really noticed until he let someone in his life again and then found himself abruptly alone once more. He gulped down his tea wishing it was something stronger. He could feel Josie watching him.

 

“We could go right now,” she said suddenly.

 

“Right now? But it's so late.”

 

“Nonsense. The night is still young and the angels have been wanting to go, right?”

 

They agreed with varying degree of enthusiasm.

 

“Bowling seems like an interesting activity,” said Erika.

 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” agreed Erika.

 

“Sure, whatever,” mumbled Erika.

 

“I... would love to go, then,” Cecil said.

 

“Good. That's settled. You drove here, right? You four go wait in your car while I get dressed.”

 

And that was how Cecil found himself sitting in his car, moments later, with three angels crammed on the backseat trying to make themselves comfortable.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Your wing is in my face.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

Josie opened the passenger door and dropped into the seat next to him. She had thrown on her orange poncho over her green “night in town” dress.

 

“Get driving, Gershwin, we're going bowling.”


End file.
